Black Magic for the Village Flower
Nana was the village’s most beautiful flower. Five young men had proposed to her, but she rejected them all for various reasons.
One day, Nana felt an unbearable pain in her chest. She went to the doctor and was declared free of breast cancer. However, the pain in her breasts persisted. A week later, they began to rot, causing her immense suffering.
Many suspected that Nana had been cursed with santet (black magic).
Who had cast this dark spell on Nana?
Would she be able to fight against this sinister magic?
Irony of Destiny
At eighteen, she still hadn't found her wolf, only to face the brutal rejection of her fated mate. Perhaps this was not where she belonged. Determined to leave the pack behind, she ventured into the human world, seeking a new life. But peace never came—instead, she encountered an unexpected Alpha...
The Mafia Princess and the A&L Mafioso
Anna Bianchi is the youngest daughter of Dom Giovanni, she is a girl with a strong personality and who does not like taking orders, she is promised in marriage to Dom Lorenzo Caccini, owner of one of the biggest Mafias in Italy, he is a merciless, calculating man and who doesn't take no for an answer, will these two strong personalities get along?
The Stars Beyond the Baelith
Setting the Scene In the verdant realm of Eldoria, where mountains kissed the sky and rivers sang through emerald valleys, life thrummed with a delicate balance between the natural and the mystical.
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HEARTBEAT 🔥🔥🔥
A Night of Confessions and an Unforgettable Heat The house was silent. Empty. Darkness settled in every corner, the quiet so deep that I could hear my own breathing. I lay on my bed, staring at th
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The apostle stone (a challenge, read all and give me a fead back)
The apostle stone, in the busy city where people went and go, there is an unassuming housed, but inside lived a person that society could not understand, here lies "the greatest writer of all humanki
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Can We Become Strangers Again?
It always begins the same way. The café doorbell chimes. He walk in — hair a little messy, eyes a little tired, carrying the same yellow umbrella that never quite closes properly. And me? I’m always
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